The Fugitives: There's always a plan

Who are you?

It was a quiet afternoon in Twilight hotel. 

Jones and his colleague were still on their morning shift, waiting patiently to hand over to the new staff. 

“Hey man! Are you one of the new staff?” Jones' colleague asked him.

“Yes I am.” Jones replied without looking at him. The receptionist outfit he was wearing matched his slenderly built body.

“You are…?” The colleague said as he stretched his hand to Jones' badge, “Gene Jones, right?”

“Yeah, right.” Jones replied with a wry smile. 

New staff were supposed to start work that afternoon, but Jones was already there since the beginning of the day and his helpful attitude to his colleague raised no argument on what shift he was.

In a jiffy, two men with unfamiliar faces walked into the hotel and headed straight to the elevator. Jones had been keeping records of everyone that recently checked out, but these two men seemed unfamiliar. 

The colleague sensed that Jones facial expressions were altered when those two men walked in. “Hey Jones, what is it? Any problem?” He asked with so much concern.

“Those two men who are headed towards the elevator, did they checked out recently?” Jones asked nonchalantly.

“Not really. Their faces look unfamiliar, but you can't know everyone that recently checked out. This place is always crowded with different faces.” He stated.

“Yeah. But… Don't worry.” Jones said, forcing a smile.

After a few seconds, Jones looked at his colleague, who was busy with records, and said.

“Please, can you look out for me? I want to use the restroom.” 

“Fine…That's not a problem.” He said as he watched Jones exit the front desk. He dashed into the elevator as if he were attempting a chase for the two men with unfamiliar faces. He was actually after them.

The elevator lurched to a start, heading to the 10th floor. 

How did he know the exact floor they were headed for, or was it just a guess?

The 10th floor was booked by a respectable wealthy old man, but in a disguise and no one could tell if he was wealthy. His briefcase didn't give much to the people around.

When he arrived that morning, an unnoticeable smile was spread over Jones' face like he had won a jackpot, but no one could tell exactly what was going on. It was Jones, who gave him the room number and the floor where he can find his room. So, it was easy for Jones to tell which room.

 But how did he know if they were after the man?

When he arrived at the man's door. He pressed his ear to the door and listened carefully to the situation.

He could hear the muffled cry of a man pleading. He quickly brought out a gun from the back of his trousers as he banged the door with his leg, forcing it open. 

One of the men lunged at him immediately the door was opened and held Jones' hand, struggling with him to prevent him from pulling the trigger. He pinned Jones' hand to the wall and the gun fell to the ground.

He was about to pick it up, but Jones quickly reacted by unleashing a resounding blow to the man's chin with his knee. The man's body took the shape, a perfect arc before crashing to the floor on his back.

Jones quickly picked up the gun and knocked him out using the butt of the pistol before the other man could make an attempt. 

When the other man saw what was happening, he quickly held the old man and wrapped his left hand over his head, with the other hand holding a knife.

“Drop your gun, or I will slit his throat.” The man warned Jones, who was pointing a gun at him.

“I really don't care if you kill him. Do as you wish.” Jones said with a silky voice.

“What?” The young man's eyes widened.

“Please do as he said. Please, I- I don't wan- want to die.” The wealthy old man said with a fidgeting tone.

“I'm sorry Tomica. But I can't.” Jones said with a more serious tone.

“Tomica? You know my name?” Tomica said with his eyes widely opened, expressing a wild surprise since he didn't use his real name in booking a hotel room.

“I know a lot of people. Don't be so surprised.”

“They are not going to kill you. They need you alive.” Jones added with a crooked smile.

“Whose brat are you, dude?” The man holding a knife asked with surprise.

“Dude?” Jones questioned. 

“Yes dude or kiddo preferably. You're definitely a kid in this game. You shouldn't be more twenty-three, asshole.” The young man said, trying to distract Jones. Jones was actually twenty-six. But his attractively handsome face complemented by his fair-complexion and a chiseled jaw made him look a little younger than his actual age. 

Jones chuckled and said. “The police will be here soon. Let him go, and I will let you live, or you could join your colleague. Make your wish.”

The man with the knife was afraid about being caught by the police, and he doesn't know if Jones' deal was to be trusted. But it seems like the only surviving option because if he kills Tomica, Jones will pull the trigger. If he let Tomica live, there was a slight chance he might live.

“Promise me.” The man said loudly with some atom of courage, but he was betraying his actual feelings. He was so afraid. They were not professional assassins, it was very obvious and Jones could tell that they were sent by low ranked gang.

“I promise.” Jones said, and walked to the left, allowing him to be close to the door.

Tomica expected Jones to shoot when he let go of him, but he didn't. He kept his word.

The other man knocked out manage to escape alongside. Jones didn't came to kill as they all thought.

Tomica's eyes gleaming with tears, and his trembling legs when he tried to stand to his feet proved the level of terrific humor hovering over him.

Jones helped him to the chair beside his bed.

“Thank you.” Tomica said as he tried to calm himself.

 Jones only responded by nodding affirmatively.

“Your outfit shows that you're just a staff. How come you know my real name? “ Tomica asked with so much anticipation.

“Tomica Schwann… Right?” Jones said with a sly smile.

“What? How do you know my name?” He gritted his teeth as he demanded frantically for an answer.

“Why don't we revert to that next time because of time.” Jones said.

“Because of time? What are you talking about, young man.” Tomica was already losing patience.

“The police will be here in a few minutes, and we both know the repercussions.” Jones threw Tomica into a more confused state.

“And I'm the victim here. You saved me. You get your credits, but I'm the victim here.” He replied, but was still confused about what Jones was trying to say. 

“Quit the charade, please. We both know you run a drug trafficking enterprise, and I don't mind telling the police to inspect your suitcase.” Jones' tone jolted him from his confusion into a surprised state.

“Who are you?”